


Pits and Monsters

by florianschild



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, POV Costis, thick as thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florianschild/pseuds/florianschild
Summary: “Shut up.” The words slipped from between clenched teeth. Kamet seemed to take the hint. He was infuriatingly good at obedience. Costis felt like a moron by comparison.There are two sides to every coin and every story. Kamet may have seen the Attolian as strong, resourceful, and calm under pressure. But we know Costis better than that.





	Pits and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ninedaysaqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninedaysaqueen/gifts).



> Eternal thanks to [pendrecarc](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pendrecarc) for the beta services and for organizing this wonderful exchange.
> 
> Additional thanks to [ninedaysaqueen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ninedaysaqueen) for giving me three delightful writing prompts that I had a devil of a time choosing between. I hope you like this one!

It didn’t make sense. Costis had mulled over the issue, but found he could not settle it. Kamet had agreed that if they were to continue on their way, fed and kept in relative comfort, they would need money. He further agreed that the only thing of any value that they now possessed was the slave chain around his neck. The chain that, Costis had noted, had no clasp or mechanism to remove it from its wearer. Like a collar. Like a hound wears, so that its master may keep it close by way of a strap. Costis bristled at the thought, and imagined that if he were forced to wear such a device, he would have it off at the first opportunity. 

But Kamet had hemmed at every suggestion that they remove it. Even now that he had agreed it was their only option, he seemed reluctant to part with it. Perhaps once it was gone, Costis thought, Kamet would come around. 

“Another throw, soldier?” The owner of the dice was holding them out to Costis. He took them, three cubes of bone, and placed three of the coins he had remaining onto the likeness of the pit chalked on the paving stone. A losing bet, he hoped. A few more losses and he could ask for a loan. He had finally neared the bottom of the small pile of coins he had started with. The sooner, the better. Costis was already beginning to wonder if his acting was good enough to keep up the charade much longer.

The soldier dicing on his right was an Ananite, carrying a long, curving cavalry sword. He had introduced himself to Costis when he joined the game, and had hardly stopped talking since. Costis was grateful; he didn’t trust his cover story much beyond the scanty trappings he had managed to think of on the spot. He had cursed himself as an irredeemable idiot for not coming up with a better story ahead of time. He wasn’t a good liar, so he tried to stick to the truth as much as he could. An abridged version, of course.

Costis had been deliberating over the matter of the chain since he’d lost their stipend in the river after the fire. He’d considered at first that perhaps it was fear that kept Kamet from removing the it. It had been fear, couched in terms of practicality, that had been the first excuse. “You will be arrested if you try to sell it,” he had said. But wasn’t it more dangerous to wear it under your clothing where anyone could notice the glint of gold? Costis had seen Kamet fidget with his shirt collar when he thought no one was looking. If there was danger in removing it, there was certainly danger in being found with it around his neck.

No, Costis thought, there had to be more to it than that. He thought that he had left the feeling of forever being two steps behind and struggling to make sense of obscure motivations in Attolia when he said farewell to his King. He would not have believed that anyone could rival Eugenides for so bewildering his judgement. He sighed and threw the dice. The cubes rattled in the bowl and settled. Two suns and a monster. The dice master took his coins, and Costis shrugged good-naturedly.

If not fear, he thought, perhaps it was pride. The chain Kamet wore was solid gold and finely worked. Costis had noted how Kamet took pride in his abilities. Nahuseresh may have seen training as investment in his property, a means of increasing its value, but the accomplishments meant something to Kamet despite that. Costis had been able to settle on pride. It wasn’t so hard to believe that Kamet was too proud to part with this tangible testament to the value that Nahuseresh had bestowed on him.

That was, Costis thought, until Traba. Costis hated even asking it, but he had concocted the plan and Kamet had agreed to it. Agreed to play the role of the long-suffering slave of an over-privileged noble’s son. So while Costis was channeling Sejanus and convincing his gambling partners that his father’s pocketbook was indeed deep enough to finance another throw of the dice, Kamet had sunk to his knees at the base of the city wall, wringing his hands and keeping his eyes on the ground.

Costis had often marveled at these strange personas that his friend could slip on and off so quickly and smoothly. Bold confidant of a benevolent master, aloof soldier, wise storyteller. Frightened runaway. But while those other faces had, all of them, seemed to be both Kamet and not-Kamet, this act was more troubling. Here he seemed to wholly embody this pitiful persona. He seemed so much like… a slave. Costis shivered. Kamet was not acting the part of a humble slave, he was reliving it.

So how, Costis wondered, could pride be what kept the chain around his neck for these many days? It couldn’t be pride. Kamet was proud of his manners, and his intelligence, and his fine speech, but it was clear now that his pride managed to coexist with humility. Kamet wasn’t too proud to call him master when he needed to make men believe. He wasn’t too proud to sink to his haunches and wait quietly while Costis gambled them into debt. 

After some time contemplating this, in between idle chatter with his fellow dicers, the turn came around to Costis again. He threw. Another loss. 

“I’m sorry. Unfortunate luck for you, friend,” the Ananite said as he clapped Costis on the shoulder. Costis wiped sweat off his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose with what he hoped looked like irritation. Mostly he was relieved that his plan had worked. He had been steadily losing money and swearing to his new friends that he had the means to get more. Now a bodyguard considerably taller than Costis was leading him away from the dice game by a strong arm draped over his shoulder. Costis beckoned to Kamet, who rose slowly to his feet and crept toward them. 

“I only need to be pointed to a discreet money changer,” Costis said, in response to the giant’s question of where he planned to procure his debt payment from. Kamet was close enough now that Costis could reach over and slip his finger beneath the gold chain, advertising its value. The metal was warm against his skin and smoothly textured like the scales of a snake.

The man nodded in understanding and steered Costis away from the dice game. The gold chain slid out from under his finger, and Kamet slipped behind him as they walked.

They ducked through alleyways, dodging children and women walking with baskets of bread and vegetables on their hips. Clothing had been hung out to dry from lines drawn between the close-set buildings. Costis walked alongside the Traban. Each time they turned to the right, he could see Kamet from the corner of his eye. It was at one of these turns that Kamet caught his gaze and spoke. “Master,” he began.

Master. That word again. The memory of Kamet crouching by the city wall. The feel of the chain sliding past his fingertip. Costis felt anger bubble up from his chest, tensing his shoulders and neck. “Shut up.” The words slipped from between clenched teeth. Kamet seemed to take the hint. He was infuriatingly good at obedience. Costis felt like a moron by comparison. If anyone bought their act, it would be because Kamet convinced them. 

Costis turned his attention back to the narrow street they were strolling down, concentrating on not being hit in the face by wet laundry. Presently, he felt a hand rest tentatively on his shoulder. It was warm in the city, and Costis was covered in dust and sweat, but when Kamet’s fingers pressed into the exposed skin at the edge of his tunic a shiver flew up his back. The hand on his shoulder steadied him, reminding him of his part in this farce.

When they arrived before the money changer, Kamet tried again. “Master,” he said in an imploring tone. 

This time Costis was ready and managed to stay in character. “Shut up.” He repeated the words, but this time kept his voice light and dismissive. Kamet wheedled him for a minute more, playing a picture-perfect role that Costis continued to find impressive and disturbing. Finally, Kamet relented and Costis pushed him in the direction of the money changer’s stall.

With no great care, the man put one hand on Kamet’s shoulder for leverage and used the other to pull the chain off. Costis was surprised by how easily it came free and found himself wishing that he had been the one to rip it apart. He wished he had done it at the riverside in Sherguz at the first opportunity. Kamet kept his eyes downcast and his head bowed as the man looped a new chain around him and sealed it closed. An odd feeling rose in Costis’s chest at Kamet’s acceptance of the man’s rough treatment. He felt an overwhelming urge to push him away from Kamet and to put himself between them.

When they had finally parted ways with the dice master’s bodyguard, Costis wandered through alleyways until he was entirely disoriented and they were sufficiently hidden from view. He glanced at Kamet to see what he was thinking. Perhaps he was anticipating this moment now that it was so close, the moment in which he shed the final adornment of his slavery. Kamet was looking at him with annoyance, but it was good to see the fire back in his eyes. Probably he was thinking about how equally likely it had been that Costis’s plan could have failed miserably. “You sure you don’t want another game with your nice new friends?” he asked.

Now that they were away from the dicing soldiers and the marketplace, Costis thought, they could be rid of the imitation gold chain that he had just watched the money changer sling around Kamet. They could walk through the city and find an inn as two free men. They could have dinner and a wash and then perhaps a comfortable bed for the night. “No, thanks,” he said, smiling. “I’m all for the quiet life.”

He reached out for the chain, taking care not to be as rough as the money changer had. He pulled hard on the links, more than ready to celebrate being rid of it for good, but the metal didn’t break as it had before. Kamet stumbled into him, nearly doubling over against his arm. He glared daggers up at Costis before righting himself. Costis felt his ears turning red. So much for their moment of triumph.

“The cheaper the chain, the harder to break.”

The anger came back upon him suddenly, as it had before. Why did Kamet know this? Why had he let the money changer touch him so impersonally, like a groom handles a horse? Why did he play the part of a cowering slave so convincingly? Costis felt his skin hot and prickling on his neck. More than anything, he wanted that damned chain off.

He reached out with both hands this time, pulling the links against each other. He grunted, his grip slipping a little from the sweat on his hands, until the metal finally buckled under the strain and came apart. 

Costis gathered the metal in one palm, shaking it as he judged its weight. It felt lighter than he expected. Finally, looking around to be sure no one was watching, Costis closed his fingers around the chain. He would toss it in the sewer grate. He would free Kamet for good, and then he would see about getting them both safely to Attolia. 

But almost as soon as he had let go of the chain, he felt Kamet’s sleeve brush his arm as he stepped past. His sandled foot pinned the very end of the chain’s length before it disappeared. Costis watched as Kamet knelt and pulled the chain free of the iron bars. He twisted the little plaque that the money changer had just restrung and freed it from the link it had been attached to. 

“It’s small enough to keep hidden,” Kamet said. Costis found himself staring, not certain what to say. The anger was gone, but so was the brief satisfaction he’d felt at tossing the chain away for good. In their place was the same confusion he had started the day with. 

“Keep it if you want.” It was all he could manage. What did Kamet want? Costis sighed and shook his head slightly, just as confused as he had been all along. It didn’t make sense.


End file.
